


Creative Substitution

by fandumbandflummery



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Axxila is a terrible planet, F/M, Other, Prostitution, Speciesism, canon typical discrimination, space racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 02:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandumbandflummery/pseuds/fandumbandflummery
Summary: Lieutenant Firmus Piett gets some semi-underhanded assistance in his quest for a captain’s rank from a most unlikely source.





	Creative Substitution

**Author's Note:**

> I once more formally dedicate this fic to Eisenschrott, who inspired much of its content and most of my fanons about the early life of this legendary Imperial.

Aet'naa Vel rather fancied Firmus Piett.

Not in the romantic sense - she was far past thinking of male partners (or even female ones) in that way. Lt. Piett was simply a good man, the likes of which were in short supply on Axxila. He never hit a girl or shouted or tried to wriggle out of a bill on grounds of sub-par service. Neither did he come with condescension or looks of pity or offers of cash to get her and her workers ‘out of this dreadful situation’ He knew the girls came to work here of their own volition, and that Aet'naa treated them as well as she could, in regards to dignity and salary both.

This had gotten MUCH easier thanks to the Lieutenant’s efforts with his ragged crew and the good ship Smiter. Aet'naa’s knocking-shop largely only got customers who paid up front and never so much as raised their voices at her lasses.

Still, for all she’s glad to leave the small-talking of the customers to her employees, Aet'naa does crave SOME company up in her office-bedroom. Which the Lieutenant is also excellent for, in his days off from pursuing the pirates and assorted other scoundrels that have made Axxila their home since the first spacers ever took to the stars. Those days off now seemed to be more and more frequent, she noted with a smile.

“Seems like them corsairs can’t take the heat that "Smiter” Piett puts on 'em like they say they can,“ she spoke over her shoulder while pouring herself and the Lieutenant each a fresh mug of spiced tea.

"I aint’ seen a Black Sun raider or an Ohnaka boat for weeks now.”

“T'be quite honest, I’m startin’ to miss the bridge of the good lass Smiter these days - when we ain’t called for pursuits or patrol I sometimes just go visit her in the yard and sit at the consoles - plenty o’ memories in that tin can,” he sighed, before glancing up and around the room.

“Is it ever tough for you to be in this place, day in day out?”

“How’s by?” Aet'naa questioned, handing Firmus a steaming mug.

“I just I know 'at Kiffs can sense 'as what’s happened in a place long after the thing’s done,” he gestured to the room with his occupied hand, “and I know I’ve busted up some violent things 'ere. Figure it can’t do a mind good to keep being shown the thing that upset it over n’ over.”

“A smart Kiffar lady like myself does it only if I really concentrate - and as far as I know, no violence has been done here with a mug of fresh Axxilan tea - which by the way, you’ve just spilled on me floor in yer daze,” she gestured to the sudden puddle of dark, steaming liquid on the duraplast floor tiles.

Firmus swore under his breath, but Aet'naa stopped him from using his coat to sop up the spill and instead went for a rag that she normally used to wipe the condensation from inside of her windows.

“Blast. Sorry bout that, love. Come to think on it, if the big badges come through with that offer of a captaincy I could just have the stuff shipped in bulk from the lower depths to wherever, and spill as much of it as I like on their fancy deckplates.”

Aet'naa jerked her head up with enough force for her long heavy braids to almost smack Firmus in the face. The expression on said face suddenly turned from brash to sheepish.

“Buggerin 'eck, I’ve said too much,” Firmus muttered, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“A promotion, Fir? T'Captain?” She sat up on her knees.

“Ah, I ain’t getting’ me hopes up past the mid-levels, Aet'naa,” he sighed into his now mostly-empty mug, “I been passed over for that cap'ns badge more times n'the rotten joint at the butchers - ”

“And even that rotten meat gets taken off-world to feed the strills in the Mando bait pits on the moons!” She got up and sat back on her chair, leaning forward. Evidently he encouraging analogy hadn’t done its job, and Firmus was still trying to avoid her gaze. She reached over and gently turned his face towards hers.

“Oh, my dearie brave Fir. Why bother mentionin’ it like that if you don’t think its going to happen? You never told me all the other times you was passed on - 'cept that one time after the poor Artois girl got shot down the way.” Aet'naa took his other hand and laid it palm-flat on the side of her face, over the yellow-gold marks that crossed her cheek. It was an intimate gesture to say the least, but it was one that worked well enough on her friend and former source of income to loosen his tongue.

“I probably shouldn’t be telling ye this, but it might be…serious this time,” he said, quietly.

“How serious is serious, Fir?”

“They’re sending some ISB tough to background check me - s'pposin' they want me fer one o’ the big ships - an SSD, even - thems’ that got all sorts of shiny brass and rainbow badges struttin’ the bridges. I've…I’ve never done nothing treasonous in my life but I still feel plenty shaky, knowing they’re looking at where my time’s been spent an’ where my salary credits have ended up,” he said quietly.

Suddenly his comm beeped an alert pattern - return to base, it commanded.

“Guess the dirtside brass want to talk to me before all that goes down,” he sighed. “Must be off, now. Thankee for the tea and the company as ever, Aet'na - I’ll see m'self out.”

After Firmus left, Aet'naa had done the rounds of the building and checked on her employees, reminding the newer recruits to store their earnings immediately after in the safe deep in the basement - for all that it was a quiet day it always paid to be diligent on Axxila. But all the while she turned over the scrap of information he’d trusted her with in her head.

Background check…no doubt they’d be checking out more than a potential Destroyer captain’s on-the-surface loyalty to the Empire.

As she made her way back to her office, a devious idea occurred to her. 

-

Late that night, after the last clients had left and girls who had their own places had gone, Aet’naa sat at the ancient computer terminal in the corner of her bedroom-office, and opened her archive of transactions. She was a diligent businesswoman in this regard, and kept records of so much as a half-credit’s exchange on her watch - it was well to be wary, as there were enough two-bit hustlers on Axxila who thought they could cheat brothel madams to populate all the moons of Iaego.

She opened the file relating to Piett, Firmus, and scrolled through the myriad of names and races that came up in the Lieutenant’s balance sheet - Socco Traa, a Togrutan. Miri Dee, a Ruitan Twi'ek. Che Rubiam, a Pantoran. Lira-zed Gharriallas, a *Lasat*, of all things. And at the very bottom, Aet'naa Vel - Kiffar - herself of course, from back when she worked in this building instead of owning it. 

She quirked one brow. Well, that won’t’ go over with the thought police.

She worked quickly, altering the names just so slightly to disguise any serious ethnic quirks. Species were changed to human denominations one by one - Alderaanian. Denoni. Corellian. Kalevalan. Lothali. To be extra certain, with a few more deft keystrokes she hauled the timestamp of the data modification back to its original time and date.

She smiled to herself, admiring her handiwork, and shut the terminal down for the night.

-

When the ISB agent came, Aet'naa made sure to be wearing her most boringly modest dress - it wouldn’t do to scandalize the Imperial any more than she normally would their kind. The agent was a human, of course - and with enough admirable control over her facial features to contain the disgust for Aetnaa’s own inhumanity to her eyes alone.

“You are Aet'naa Vel, proprietor?” came her cold, Upper-level Coruscanti voice.

“Yessah, I am.”

“I am here to examine the transactions made by one of your clients,” the agent stepped in, not bothering to wait for an invitation.

“Of course, sah, right this way,” she replied, darting in front of the woman and leading her to the door at the left-top of the stairs.

“The terminal’s in the corner - don’t let the ancient looks scare you off, she works just fine.”

The agent sat down wordlessly, jammed her code cylinder into the one worn-out data port on the terminal’s side, and began to scan the rows of letters, numbers, and grainy pictures. Long minutes of silence passed, as she studied the flickering blue screen projection with an impassive, inscrutable look. Then the agent abruptly stood up, yanking the code cylinder out of the terminal’s port and tucking it back into her uniform pocket.

“I have all that I need, now. Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Vel - glory to the Emperor.”

“Glory glory, sah,” she replied.

The unconventional Axxilan variant on the greeting got no more than a raised eyebrow from the ISB agent as she stepped back out onto the street.

-

Several weeks later, a frantic thumping on the door of her office-room found Aet'naa rising groggily to her feet from her bed, where she'd been taking a much-needed mid-morning nap. 

"Who's there?" she called. 

"Aet'naa! just Open the bloody door!" 

“What in the- Firmus? What is it? What’s wi'all the fuss?”

“The fuss! More like the biggest thing since that Mando teenager shot Krokus the Hutt for a billion credit bounty!”

She'd barely touched the lock before he pushed his way into her room, fully dressed and with a duffle bag over one shoulder, practically shaking with excitement.

“Aet'naa, as of this morning, I am officially Acting Captain Piettt of Death Squadron - the shuttle that will take me to the ISD Accuser is goin’ in about forty minutes!”

“Well then why in the depths of haran are you here, Fir! Don’t miss your boat for the sake of a pipe job!” She made to shoo him back down the stairs and out the door.

“Ay, quit harryin’ me, woman!” He snapped, waving her hands away.

“That’s not why I’m here, Aet'naa, I just…I know I’m only an acting captain but I canna be sure if I’ll ever be able to come back here. To Axxila - even to this spot in space. I mean, I, ” he paused, eyes focusing at a point over her shoulder as if he was trying to find the words on her bedroom wall, “I-I wanted to tell you-”

“Oh, come here you stiff Greyback!” she jumped up and flung her arms around his shoulders. Immediately he wound his own tightly around her waist.

“Ten thousand little gods, I’ll miss you,” he muttered against her ear.

“I’ll miss you too, my brave Fir’ dearie,” she sighed into the unkempt hair sticking out from under his cap.

*And if they could ever convince another hard-nosed thought policeman to come back and cross examine yer past till the sun sets, by the time they find anything off about my data you’ll be so covered in shiny rainbow badges and medals they won’t be able to find a spot to stick the muck*, she thought gleefully.

Finally, she let him go, and would deny for the rest of her life that her eyes misted over and she sniffled a little.

“Now be off with ye, *Captain* Piett.”


End file.
